


Safe In Your Arms

by Mochi_MinMin



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: 1889 World's Fair, F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Fluff and Smut, SebaGrell - Freeform, mostly fluff with some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25010686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochi_MinMin/pseuds/Mochi_MinMin
Summary: Our favorite ginger Shinigami falls through the perilous ice covering the Thames, and is most surely done for. But what's this? Before she blacks out, she feels a strong pair of arms catch her and bear her to the surface. Who is this mysterious hero? Someone we've met before? ;)
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UGH, I'm so sorry; I haven't posted all month! 
> 
> <3<3<3<3<3<3HAPPY PRIDE TO ALL OF YOU!!!<3<3<3<3<3<3
> 
> Hope you enjoy! (Naturally, Sebastian is somewhat OoC, but he's still one hell of a butler<3)

Grell Sutcliff sat cross-legged upon the hard wooden planks of a deserted dock, idly watching the human children as they skated gaily to and fro across the Thames. She rested her head on her palm, sighing gloomily as their cheerful babble floated to her ears. A frigid gust of wind buffeted her hair, sending her scarlet tresses flying, but she barely noticed it.

It had only been a week since her beloved Death Scythe had been confiscated, but it felt like a century. Without it, she felt naked; she felt as though a gaping hole had opened inside her, and it wouldn’t be filled until she got it back.

When William himself had handed her the ridiculous “Death Scythes” that were truly no better than kindergarten scissors, she just about bit his head off. Which would’ve been pretty easy, considering her teeth were as sharp as her Death Scythe’s razor edge. She had wanted to really lace into him, but she barely held it back; the Administrative Division had warned her that one more “mishap” would ensure her swift removal from the ranks of Reaper-hood. So she’d had no choice but to grit her teeth and take the puny scissors.

She pulled them out of her coat pocket now, eyeing them distastefully. More than once, she’d considered “misplacing” them somewhere in the Thames, hoping the Administrative Division would _have_ to give her back her Death Scythe, but she surmised they’d just shrug their shoulders and make her have no Death Scythe at all.

 _Not that I particularly need one right now,_ she thought irritatedly, pocketing the scissors. Her soul notebook had been remarkably bare, no doubt due to her most recent infraction. She had taken to wandering moodily about London, avoiding William as much as possible. She knew it wasn’t really his fault, but the least he could do was sympathize with her! But of course, he had done his trademark sigh-and-glasses-adjustment; ‘Honestly, Grell… You wouldn’t have this problem if you’d just do your job correctly’. He could be such a square sometimes! Even if he _was_ attractive.

Ronald understood, at least. He did his best to cheer her up, but even the sunny blonde couldn’t get her out of her funk.

Sighing, Grell stood up and stretched, hopped off the dock onto the ice and ambled through the thin layer of snow, heading toward the collection of garish tents of the 1889 World's Fair. Perhaps there was an adequate-looking human or two she could pass the time with for a while.

She was nearly halfway there, when abruptly, a stomach-turning _CRRACK!_ rippled outward from beneath her feet.

She barely had time to register what was happening before she was swallowed by the freezing, inky waters of the Thames, Madame Red’s gorgeous cloak only serving to drag her down further, as if attempting to avenge the premature death of its late owner.

Annoyed that she had been too absorbed by her thoughts to sense the weak spot in the ice, she tried, without much success, to swim back to the surface. The broken ice had already bobbed back into position, doubtless refreezing already. Even for her, a Shinigami, the arctic water was starting to gnaw at her limbs, slowing her struggles, leaching her strength as she sank down, down, down, into the Thames’ filthy depths.

 _What the_ hell _?! This is ridiculous; I can’t drown, I’m already_ dead! _This is the worst! First, my Scythe gets confiscated, and now, I’m drowning, which should be physically impossible! Ugh, and I_ just _got this shirt, I -- NO!_

Grell’s eyes flew wide open as something swept her glasses from her face, whirling them away in the murky water, never to be seen again.

She would have screamed, had she not been under about 20 feet of water. _And now, I’m blinder than a bat. Wonderful._

Starting to panic, Grell lashed about wildly; rather, she tried to. But she realized, with a sinking feeling, her limbs were starting to go numb. In her mind, she was willing her muscles to respond. But they didn’t. She was painfully aware of the rapidly increasing weakness of her attempts; the unforgiving waves absorbed every effort.

Grell could already feel her senses slipping away; her lungs were burning, but her head felt as light and tranquil as a feather.

_I hope Will doesn’t miss me too much… I don’t want him to be unhappy… and Bassy… oh, dear Bassy…_

Grell’s eyes closed wearily. As the last bit of oxygen was expelled from her lungs, she fancied a strong pair of arms wrapped around her, the only warmth in the permeating cold surrounding her.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When Grell awoke, she found that she had been stripped nearly naked; the only thing she was wearing were her underclothes, and a heavy black wool coat that clearly was not her own. Before she could ponder whose it was, she lurched to the side and retched, spewing what seemed like gallons of disgusting river water.

Finally empty, she flopped back, doing her best to take in her surroundings, given her unfortunate Shinigami eyes. By the fire crackling merrily in a large wood stove, she surmised she was in one of the small sheds by the river in which the humans used to warm up in the winter. Her clothes were hanging, still quite wet, from a clothesline behind the fire; steam rose from them, and their damp smell filled the cabin. Even though she was quite close to the roaring fire, her teeth began to chatter, and she snuggled deeper into the folds of the mysterious overcoat, which smelt faintly of… _Earl Grey? And something stronger… something… where have I smelt that before? It’s on the tip of my tongue…_

Grell’s thoughts were interrupted by a particularly strong gust of wind rattling the walls of the little cabin. She shivered and curled to face the flames. _Whoever brought me here, I promise I’ll keep them from the ‘To Die’ list permanently, if that’s what they wish. But surely they didn’t just leave me here alone, did they?_

Her silent question was answered by the sound of the door behind her opening, and as she whirled around to see who it was, they turned their back and closed the door quietly. Whoever it was, they were easily carrying a cumbersome load of firewood under one arm.

And then they turned around.

Grell's mouth fell open in shock; even without her glasses, she would know him anywhere. “Bassy?!”

And then it clicked; Grell _had_ seen the coat before; Sebastian always wore it in winter over his usual outfit. _And the smell… The coat smells of…_ demon.

Sebastian Michaelis treated her to his signature smile. “It is good to see you awake, Grell,” he said, walking around her and setting the firewood in a pile by the wood stove. “That was a nasty plunge you took; were you human, you most certainly would have died. You passed out and stopped breathing for a while, so I had to resuscitate you. How are you feeling?”

“I -- er,” Grell colored slightly as Sebastian suddenly knelt next to her, genuine concern in his carmine eyes. “You… You _saved_ me.”

Sebastian smiled. “Of course I did; I couldn’t very well have let my #1 Fan drown, now could I?”

Grell was baffled; this was nothing like the usual cold, stoic Sebastian she was used to fawning over. “But… But why? That kid ordered you to do it, right? I mean, you’re a demon, I’m a Reaper. Don’t you hate me?”

Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed. “Certainly not; my master doesn’t even know I am here; or that _you_ are, for that matter. And I don’t _hate_ you, Grell. Though you _can_ be rather annoying. And vulgar. However,” he continued, “I would be rather upset if you just… disappeared forever. Who would I battle so passionately with then?”

Grell hummed and looked away, toying with the overlong edges of Sebastian’s coat. “So… you, for lack of a better term, _care_ about me?”

Sebastian coughed. “Well, I suppose one could phrase it like that, yes.”

They were quiet for a moment.

And then abruptly, a look of alarm crossed Sebastian’s face. “You almost died! You’re already dead! How did this even happen? Wait a minute…” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Grell shrewdly. “When was the last time you ate?”

Grell looked back blankly. “Ate? Er… that’s a good question. I haven’t the faintest idea.”

The expression on Sebastian’s face chilled her to the bone.

“You. Absolute. _Fool_ . How can you possibly have forgotten to eat? You’re a Reaper, not a demon; you can’t just go for long stretches without eating. _That’s_ why you nearly drowned, imbecile, you’re _weak_. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen ill already.” Sebastian sighed and massaged his temples. “I’ll be back.”

And with that, Sebastian rose, and left the cabin, closing the door gently behind him, and leaving Grell to her thoughts.

\----------------------------------

Sebastian was back in a trice, bearing all sorts of food.

Grell watched curiously as Sebastian removed his tailcoat, set it aside, and rolled up his sleeves. He proceeded to slice, dice, and chop various ingredients into a large pot he had boiling on the wood stove. Before long, a delicious aroma filled the cabin, making Grell’s stomach growl most embarrassingly.

Sebastian glanced back at her and smirked. “I’m sorry, Grell, did you say something?”

Grell smiled nervously and flushed, arms clasped tight around her belly. “Er-- no. No, not all. Must have been the wind, haha.”

Sebastian smirk deepened, but he turned back to his work.

When the soup was ready, Sebastian ladeled a small amount into a bowl, and handed it to Grell, along with a spoon. “Here you are. I trust you can feed yourself?”

Grell was about to retort angrily when she realized how much her hands were shaking.

Sebastian sighed. “Perhaps not. Very well, I shall have to assist you.” And he sat cross-legged next to her, taking back the spoon and bowl.

“Now, I know you are, essentially, starving; you’ll want to swallow this in one gulp. But I assure you, it will only come right back up, so you’ll have to eat this very slowly. You probably won’t be able to eat normal food for a few days, just small amounts of light things.”

In any other circumstance, Grell would have been thrilled to be fed by _the_ Sebastian Michaelis, but she was far too tired to care, and thus, obediently let Sebastian feed her; although, she couldn’t stop a slight flush from coloring her cheeks.

“By the by, why _haven’t_ you eaten in so long?” Sebastian asked.

Grell sighed, and explained the whole mess about her beloved Death Scythe, from the moment it was confiscated right up until the moment before she blacked out under the Thames.

“...and I even lost my gorgeous spectacles! The Management Division will just give me a pair of the newbie ones, which are barely better than having none at all!”

Sebastian seemed to recall something, reached into his breast pocket, and fished out Grell’s glasses. “I noticed you weren’t wearing them when I pulled you out, and after a bit of searching, I found them snagged on a root under the river,” he explained, and placed them gently on her face, brushing her silky hair out of the way so the legs rested lightly over her ears.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Sebastian had never taken a moment to truly gaze into the Reaper’s eyes, as he was usually busy avoiding being flayed alive by her Death Scythe. But now he could. Grell’s eyes were remarkable; they were a luminescent chartreuse that seemed to draw one in, begging to be explored. As he studied those imploring eyes, Grell gazed back just as ardently. She loved Sebastian’s eyes; well, she loved all of him, but his eyes most of all. They were wine-red and positively bewitching; the longer you looked at them, the more inhuman they became. And when his pupils slitted and his irises slipped to that startling fuschia, oh! Grell found it very sexy indeed.

Gradually, Sebastian and Grell’s faces were inexplicably drawn together, until they were only a centimeter apart. Grell paused, certain Sebastian would shove her away at any moment or pronounce it all a cruel joke.

But he didn’t.

Sebastian slipped his hand around her neck and drew her closer, closing the distance between her soft lips and his.

Instinctively, Grell wrapped her arms around his waist, and pulled him over so that he was straddling her. Eagerly, she loosened his tie and unbuttoned his vest and shirt, revealing his perfectly toned chest and abs. She was already starting to fumble with his zipper when he grabbed her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head to the floor. Grell moaned as Sebastian kissed a trail down her neck, sucking and leaving little love-bites here and there. Grell couldn’t help crying out and bucking her hips against his as he bit down particularly hard at just the right spot on her neck. “Bassyyy,” She whined, needy.

Sebastian paid no heed, and continued to tease the redhead, working his way down her chest, nibbling and sucking on her taut nipples until they were sore. Grell groaned and her breathing grew labored as Sebastian licked a long stripe up her abdomen, from the hemline of her underwear to the base of her neck, where he began to nibble again, surely leaving no small number of bruises. “Bassy, _please_ ,” she mewled. “I feel like I’m going to explode!”

Indeed, Sebastian could feel Grell’s clothed erection rubbing against his crotch. He nibbled Grell’s ear and murmured, “Oh dear, we can’t have that; my coat would be ruined. Perhaps I can lend you a hand…”

Sebastian deftly removed Grell’s underwear, smirking as the hardened member sprang from its confines, the head already swollen and leaking. Grell’s back arched as Sebastian took her into his hand and began to pump slowly; the friction produced by the silk of Sebastian’s glove was maddening. Grell moaned and tried to thrust into his hand, but was quickly restrained by Sebastian’s other hand, pinning her to the floor.

“Now Grell, I can’t let you off the hook so easily, can I?” Sebastian purred. “What kind of butler would I be if I couldn’t at least make this worth your while?”

“B-Bassyyy,” Grell wailed, for Sebastian, sadist that he was, had begun to lightly swirl his thumb over the head’s sensitive flesh. Each teasing stroke was agony; tears were starting to form in Grell’s eyes from the rapidly mounting pressure.

Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuschia as he watched the redhead writhing and moaning beneath him. _Divine._ He could feel his fangs starting to grow at the provocative sight, and clenched his jaw to stop them. He had to restrain himself from pouncing on her and fucking her into the ground; in her weakened condition, he might very well fuck her to death. Honestly, Grell probably wouldn’t mind, but Sebastian rather liked the idea of having the opportunity to do this again sometime.

A predatory smile curled Sebastian’s lips. “Say ‘please’.”

Frustrated to the point of bursting, Grell grabbed Sebastian’s hand that was on her hips with both of hers and all but screamed, “ _Fucking hell, PLEASE, Bassy,_ please _, before I explode!_ ”

And with a wicked grin, Sebastian fervently stroked Grell’s weeping shaft. The Reaper began to tremble, hips thrusting wantonly into the demon’s hand. Her eyes rolled back and she cried out as she came, white liquid spurting all over Sebastian’s gloves.

Spent, Grell collapsed back, chest heaving, eyes lidded. “That was… amazing, Bassy,” she panted. “But why the hell… do you have to be such… a sadist?!”

Sebastian smiled as he smoothly removed and replaced his soiled gloves. “Why, what kind of a demon would I be if I didn’t find pleasure within others’ pain?”

Grell rolled her eyes and groaned.

“And besides, Grell, I rather think you enjoyed it; I _know_ you’re quite the masochist,” Sebastian said silkily.

Grell huffed. “Whatever. Just… cuddle me, asshole. I’m getting cold again.”

The demon smiled triumphantly and complied, lying down next to the Reaper and drawing her close to his chest. She threw her arm around him and rested her head upon his shoulder, snuggling close. Sebastian drew his overcoat around them both, and they drifted off into a peaceful slumber, lulled to sleep by the warmth of each other and the ceaseless rush of the wind outside.


End file.
